


Wouldn't know where to start

by Aces_and_Roses



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Panic Attacks, descriptions of stitching a wound, mentions of cauterizing a wound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 19:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20262994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aces_and_Roses/pseuds/Aces_and_Roses
Summary: Clerics were not the ones meant to be getting hurt in a fight. That was Hamid’s only thought as he saw Zolf rush forward, glaive at the ready, and knock the head off one of the strange… proto-simulacra that they were fighting, only for another one to come up behind him and cut a deep slice across his back.





	Wouldn't know where to start

**Author's Note:**

> I got... way too into researching the proper methods for cauterizing and stitching wounds for this. Title from the Hozier fic title generator.

Clerics were not the ones meant to be getting hurt in a fight. That was Hamid’s only thought as he saw Zolf rush forward, glaive at the ready, and knock the head off one of the strange… proto-simulacra that they were fighting, only for another one to come up behind him and cut a deep slice across his back. As Hamid watched Zolf fall, however, that thought abruptly changed to something along the lines of _‘Zolf you idiot, what the gods were you thinking?’_, as well as some incoherent screaming, but really, could you blame him? He had just seen the man that he loved fall, and now he was watching as he bled out on the ground.

A couple of magic missiles took care of the remaining simulacra, and Hamid rushed over to where Zolf was lying face down on the ground, the earth around him becoming rapidly stained by the steadily expanding pool of blood. He skidded to a stop next to him, dropping to his knees as he did so (with no consideration given to the dirt and blood now staining his pants).

Hamid was trying not to panic, but he didn’t know what to do. Azu and Grizzop were...somewhere, he didn’t know where. They’d all gotten separated, early in the fight (it was a stroke of luck that Hamid had managed to spot Zolf a few minutes earlier and make his way over to him), and Hamid still hadn’t managed to find them. Hands shaking, he pulled out his bag and rummaged through it, hoping against hope that his recollections were wrong and he _hadn’t _already used his last healing potion earlier that day.

He wasn’t wrong.

“Gods, of course, of _course_,” Hamid muttered. He could feel his panic building as he saw more blood seeping out of Zolf’s wound, so he took a deep breath (in, out, slowly, like Zolf always told him to) and considered his options.

He didn’t want to leave Zolf to try and find Azu, he couldn’t risk something happening while he was gone, so that was out. But he could look through Zolf’s bag (he was sure that Zolf would pardon the invasion of his privacy, just this once) and see if he had any potions. If not, he was pretty sure that Zolf kept some sort of first aid kit in there, and he could try to use that.

(He didn’t really have any other options, he supposed.)

Zolf’s bag didn’t appear to have any potions forthcoming either, but in his search, Hamid was able to find the first aid kit (not that he was nearly as good at using it as Zolf was). Really, the only reason he had any idea what to do at all was thanks to Zolf himself.

_The cut on Zolf’s arm wasn’t that bad, honestly, barely bad enough to justify stitches. The only problem, however, was that it was in a spot that meant he couldn’t reach to stitch it up himself (not safely, at least)._

_Azu was already asleep, exhausted from the hellish day they’d all had (to the point that she’d passed out nearly the instant she’d hit the pillow). Grizzop and Sasha were out… somewhere, Hamid hadn’t thought (or really wanted) to ask where. Which left only one option: Hamid. Hamid, who had no idea what he was doing. Hamid who, up until relatively recently, threw up at the sight of blood. Hamid, whose hands were shaking so hard he was finding it nearly impossible to thread the needle._

_“Hey,” Zolf reached out and grabbed one of Hamid’s hands, stilling it. “You’re gonna stab yourself if you’re not careful.” Zolf gave Hamid a lopsided grin and he smiled back (which probably looked more like a grimace, if Zolf’s look of concern was anything to go by). “If you’re not comfortable doing this Hamid, it’s okay. I’ll figure it out.”_

_Hamid shook his head sharply, then took a deep breath (in, out, slowly), focusing for a few moments on calming his breathing before speaking. “It’s fine, Zolf. I’m fine. I’ve just… never done this before. I’m not sure how, to be honest.”_

_“I’ll walk you through it.” Zolf released Hamid’s hand, moving it to instead rest on Hamid’s shoulder. “As long as you’re sure you’re okay.” Hamid nodded, and Zolf smiled gently at him. “It’s really not that different from sewing fabric. I know you can do that.”_

_Taking another slow breath, Hamid finished threading the needle, then looked back to Zolf. “Okay. What do I do?”_

_“First, you need to stop the bleeding.”_

Hamid moved the remnants of Zolf’s torn shirt out of the way, prestidigitated his hands clean, then took some sterile gauze out of the kit and pressed it down on the slash across Zolf’s back (fervently hoping it would be enough to stop the flow of blood).

It wasn’t, and the gauze was soaked through within two minutes. Swearing under his breath, Hamid looked around desperately for something, anything he could do.

_“I don’t think this explanation is really necessary, Zolf. The cut’s not even bleeding anymore,” Hamid said, feeling slightly queasy._

_“It’s useful to know how to cauterize a wound, Hamid,” Zolf responded with a long-suffering sigh. “You never know.”_

_“But you know how. Why do I need to?”_

_Zolf just shook his head, and repeated: “You never know.”_

He didn’t have anything metal on him. Nothing that could be used for what he needed, anyway. He didn’t even have something to start a fire, except…

Hamid removed the gauze, feeling slightly faint as he touched the sodden material (but he couldn’t let that distract him, Zolf needed him. He needed to do this for him), then laid his hands directly on top of the wound, feeling the heat gathering within them as he did. After a couple seconds, he pulled his hands back and examined it.

The bleeding had finally stopped, thank the gods.

_“Then, once the bleeding has stopped, you need to make sure the wound is clean - which should be pretty easy for you, since you can just-” Zolf made a waving gesture with his hand that Hamid took to mean he could prestidigitate it, “y’know. Then just stitch the wound closed. You want the stitches about a quarter inch apart and away from the edge of the skin. Just like sewing.”_

Somehow, the actual process of stitching Zolf up was the easiest part. Hamid knew how, he had lots of practice, and once he looked past the fact that this was _Zolf_ and not a piece of cloth, it was actually pretty simple.

No, the hardest part came after he bandaged it all up. He had to wait. Zolf was still unconscious, and he’d bled a lot. Hamid knew he was still breathing, gods know he was checking that every few moments, but he had no way of knowing when (or if, a traitorous part of his mind whispered to him) Zolf would wake up. He needed Azu or Grizzop, but he didn’t want to leave Zolf long enough to find them (he probably should, he was aware, but part of him insisted that if he left him for even a moment something terrible would happen). So instead, he simply cast Dancing Lights and directed them high into the air, hoping they were visible enough against the cloudy sky to act as a flare, and settled down next to Zolf to wait.

It took twenty minutes before anyone found them. Twenty long, agonizing minutes of sitting, waiting, checking Zolf over every few minutes to make sure there weren’t any injuries he’d missed. Twenty minutes of sitting on the cold, hard ground next to Zolf’s very nearly motionless body.

It was torture.

But then Azu was there, and laying on hands. Then Zolf was awake (he was _awake_) and it took nearly all of Hamid’s self control not to kiss him right there and then, because _gods_ he’d been so afraid.

Later, Hamid would find the energy to be angry at Zolf for rushing in and nearly getting himself killed, but right then he was just happy he was alive.

* * *

It was later, and Hamid was __very, very angry. That didn’t mean he didn’t help Zolf down onto one of the beds in their shared hotel room before settling down himself on the other, to ensure Zolf had all the space he needed (despite the fact that the distance between them felt nearly intolerable), or that he didn’t wince sympathetically as Zolf hissed when the stitches pulled at his skin. But still, he was angry (and in his opinion he had every right to be).

Zolf slept for a while, or at least tried to, holding himself carefully still so as to not put any pressure on his back, and Hamid let him. Of course he did. He was angry, sure, but Zolf was exhausted and Hamid’s planned lecture about the importance of _keeping yourself alive_ could wait.

Hamid found himself jerking awake in the middle of the night with the image of Zolf bleeding out printed on the inside of his eyelids. He shot upward, taking deep, heaving breaths as he tried to calm himself down as quietly as he could, so he didn’t disturb Zolf (who had only finally fallen asleep a few hours earlier).

_“Okay, Hamid?” Zolf said as he kneeled down in front of him, positioning himself so that Hamid could see him without having to move from his fetal curl. “Can you look at me? I’m going to- I’m going to take your hand, is that okay?”_

_Hamid forced out an affirmative noise between gasping breaths (or as close to an affirmative noise as he was going to get). He felt like he was shaking apart; every joint, every muscle locked in place even as he fell to pieces with the force of it._

_Zolf took his hand gently, guiding it to rest on the center of his chest and holding it there. “I need you to breathe with me, alright? Try to breathe with me.” He took a long, slow breath in (and Hamid could feel how his chest expanded with it, steady and reassuring under his palm), then released it just as slowly. He repeated the cycle (slow in, slow out) again and again as Hamid tried to force his breathing to slow enough to match it._

Hamid tried to steady his breathing, to quiet the loud shaking gasps (slow in, slow out), but found he couldn’t. Every time he closed his eyes, the image was there again, the image of Zolf on the ground, kicking his panic back up to high gear. Logically, he knew that Zolf was fine, that he’d been able to help, that he’d been able to save him, but that did nothing to calm the frantic racing of his thoughts.

It took less than a minute for the noise to wake Zolf. Hamid felt terrible about it, about disturbing Zolf when he so desperately needed the rest, just because he couldn’t calm himself down (but that did precisely nothing to help with the issue). Zolf made a pained noise as he sat up, then stood, padding his way over to Hamid’s bed. “Hamid?” he whispered, his voice rough with sleep. “Are you alright?”

Hamid tried to respond to that, make some sort of noise, _anything_, but found he couldn’t. So he simply shook his head mutely, hoping that Zolf would be able to see it in the dark room.

He must have been able to, because he sat down on the edge of the bed next to where Hamid was curled and held out his arms. “Do you want-” Hamid launched himself forward into him before he could finish, his shaky breaths morphing to sobs as he did. He buried his face into Zolf’s shoulder as he felt Zolf’s arms wrap around him, and let himself cry into him.

Eventually, though exactly how long it took Hamid couldn’t say, his sobs slowed to a stop and he pulled back to look Zolf in the eye. “You could have died.” Quiet, like he was hesitant to break the silence that had fallen between them.

“I know,” Zolf replied, just as quietly.

“I’m very angry with you.” Hamid leaned forward, putting his hands on Zolf’s shoulders, as though he would just evaporate into nothing if Hamid didn’t hold onto him.

“I know.”

“I love you,” Hamid whispered as he leaned forward, pressing his mouth to Zolf’s for just a moment before pulling back again. “But if you ever do anything that stupid again, I’ll kill you myself.”

Zolf let out a chuckle, at that. “I know. I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at redactedquill, as always!


End file.
